Where is it I search
Over hills or deep down in dark?
Repressed by no one but myself
Twist and turn til time is up
Hell takes form in peace and quiet
Weal; the winds that come and go
Hear autumn crisp, each scrunch more bleak
Inside sanctuary ebbs away
Left to comfort weary soul —
Ever wonder what it’s worth?
Category: Acrostic
Idea
In my head I feel
Depressed I cannot fly
Even though inert
Another thought takes off